Mud
by blueland10
Summary: Neal Caffrey's name was well known in the criminal underworld, just not in the way he wants, smeared in mud.
1. Chapter 1

Mud

In the criminal underworld, there were certain names that struck fear in the hearts of their victims. There were names that were looked upon with respect and admiration. They were the legends. Abagnale, Madoff, Ponzi, Parker, Boesky, the greatest con men to ever live. They were people every crook wanted to be and every cop wanted to arrest.

There was one kid who was well on his way to becoming one of those names, leading the pack of the new generation of con men. He was talented, beyond brilliant, and more charming then the next guy. He was history in the making. But before he climbed that last golden latter, he fell and fell hard.

Neal Caffrey's name is well known by many criminals. He is regarded like a cursed gem. Beautiful, exquisite, sought after, but never to be touched. Neal Caffrey was a turn coat, a traitor, a defector, and a quisling. His name is tainted. His reputation tarnished, all because of one deal. One deal took a legend and smeared his name in mud.

Neal Caffrey was a con man.

Neal Caffrey made a deal with the feds.

Neal Caffrey betrayed his people, his way of life.

Neal Caffrey's name is mud.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mornin' Peter." Neal said brightly as he walked into Agent Peter Burke's office early one morning. The sun was shining brightly through the large windows behind the agent, casting a warm glow in the tiny space.

"You're here early." Peter noted not looking up but keeping his eyes on the file in front of him.

"So are you." Neal pointed out, placing his fedora gently on the desk.

"Hat."

"Really Peter?"

"Yes really, get it off." Neal rolled his eyes and removed his hat. "What do you know about Gerald Stevens?"

"Other than he's a petty thief, not much."

"Well I wouldn't say he's petty anymore, take a look at this." Peter said sliding the file over to Neal. He took it from Peter and began to read it over. Certain words popped out to him like: stolen, _The Piano Lesson_, and Matisse. A mischievous smile broke out across his face as the thrill of a new case sunk in. "Uh yup there it is, don't get any ideas Neal, we're here to recover the painting."

"Peter please, after all we've been through you really think I would try and steal it?"

"I know you and I know how much you like Matisse." Peter said watching his consultant carefully. "Don't say you didn't think about it."

"It may have crossed my mind." Neal admitted.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Peter said with a roll of his eyes. "Apparently Stevens took a little field trip to the Museum of Modern Art last night and walked out with Matisse's The Piano Lesson. NYPD tracked him down to this warehouse but haven't made a move on him."

"Why?"

"We don't want to spook him. He get's wind that we're closing in, he'll take the painting and run."

"You gotta plan to catch him?"

"Word on the street, Stevens is looking for a fence."

"Sell the painting and run, classic move." Neal said nodding as he looked over the file once more.

"It is, that's why we let slip that George Devore, international fence, is in town looking for business."

"Oh thanks, so glad I was informed."

"Don't give me that crap; you know you're looking forward to it."

"It's true I am." Neal said shrugging it off. Against his better judgment Peter let out a small smile that Neal returned at full force.

"Alright enough goofing off, this is serious, Stevens could be dangerous. We've already set up the meet; you know what you need to do."

"Then let's do this." Neal said with his most charming smile.

* * *

><p>If you are a traitor, people will hear about it. Your name will be whispered in the dark, jobs will start disappearing, aliases will become known. It was a deadly thing to be a traitor. Neal Caffrey knew this; he just never knew how bad it could get.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Neal was in his element, his confidence at full capacity as he walked to the meet. The sun was dipping low behind the buildings sending the park into twilight. Streetlamps cast a misty orange glow on the park bench where a man sat, his leg bouncing up and down nervously.

"_Remember Neal, this is just the first meet, don't get in over your head."_ Peter's voice warned him though the receiver in his ear. Neal just smiled. Compared to some of the jobs he pulled, this was nothing; he could do this in his sleep.

"Nice night out." Neal commented taking a seat next to the man on the bench watching a jogger run by.

"A bit warm for my liking." The man said not making contact. "You Devore?"

"That I am. I hear you need a high profile piece moved."

"I do. People tell me you're the man to see."

"Well their right about that." Neal smiled glancing at the man. There was something off about him. He seemed too nervous for just a meet. A few days ago this man walked out of one of the top museums without breaking a sweat, but now as he sat on the bench, his leg bounced, his eyes darted side to side, and a thin sheen of sweat formed on his forehead. He was spooked. "What do you need moved?" Neal pressed on despite his suspicions.

"Details don't matter."

"I'm afraid they do, I can't move it if I don't know what it is."

"Y-you just take it and get it out of the country." Stevens faltered.

"Perhaps you should reconsider who you chose to move your belongings."

"Why is that?" he shot getting to his feet. "Gone soft have you? Don't want to see another of your kind go down?"

He was busted. Somehow Stevens found out who he really was, but Neal couldn't let the case fall apart so he played dumb hoping he was wrong.

"What are you talking about?" he asked looking confused.

"Don't pretend you don't know!" he snapped growing more and more unstable as the seconds ticked by.

"_Neal say the word and where there_." Peter's concerned voice rang in his ear.

"Know what?" Neal asked playing the part of the annoyed fence. "What are you talking about?"

"I know who you are!" Stevens shouted reaching behind his back and pulling out a gun. He pointed it directly at Neal's head, making his heart stop in his chest. "You're Neal Caffrey."

"Guilty as charged." Neal smiled though his eyes held no amusement. There was no point continuing this game of charades.

"And if you're here, then feds are here. You're trying to set me up."

"What makes you think that?"

"Like you don't know." Stevens scoffed anger rising in his eyes. "You're a traitor, a snitch, the feds new play toy."

"Is that what people are calling it these days? The feds play toy?"

"Don't fool with me Caffrey!" He yelled his finger unsteady on the trigger. Neal eyed the gun in his hand with apprehension. He's been in situations like this before, but that didn't mean that he was comfortable with it. "You know what you've done. You've turned your back on our life. People want you dead Caffrey."

"So is that you're going to do; you came here to kill me?"

"Stop it Caffrey or I swear I'll pull the trigger!"

"Then do it, go ahead, kill me!" Neal spat. "Kill me and run but the feds will catch you. They will always catch you, with my help or not. Everyone gets caught in the end."

"I said shut up!" he screamed. But the sound of the gun firing was louder. It echoed in the almost deserted park, like thunder. Neal heard the bullet wiz passed his ear, the heat from the hot metal warm on his skin. He dropped to the ground, scooting backwards as Stevens came closer. Neal held up a hand as if to stop the next bullet, but it never came.

"FBI!"

"Drop the weapon!"

"Freeze!"

"Put the gun down!"

"I said drop the weapon!"

The color fell from Stevens face as he stood above Neal, the gun still pointed at his head. His eyes were wide with fear and anger. The shouts continued but Stevens didn't move a muscle.

"Just give it up Stevens." Neal breathed. "You can't win."

Stevens flashed a horrible grin and let out a laugh. "You should see yourself now. Neal Caffrey, master forger counting on the feds to save his life. It's pathetic." He lowered his gun, letting it fall to the ground. Jones ran forward and pulled Steven's hands behind his back, cuffing him. He kept laughing as he was lead out of the park, its menacing tone buzzing in Neal's head.

"You alright Neal?" Peter said holding out a hand. Neal reached for it pulling himself to his feet. He dusted off his suit and ran his fingers through his hair. "Neal? Are you ok?" Peter asked again.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." Neal lied watching Jones and Stevens grow smaller and smaller until he could no longer see them.

"Are you sure?"

"Peter, I'm fine, really." Neal said flashing his most convincing smile. Peter just nodded, eyeing the young con suspiciously. "You ready to go?"

"Sure, after you." Peter said letting Neal take the lead. Neal smiled again and took off. But Peter couldn't help but notice something different in his walk. Something was missing.

* * *

><p>A fall from grace is never easy. Hearing the news that you are no long looked upon with respect is never fun to hear. Knowing that your past life is in the past and your new life is hated by those you once looked up to is never a pleasant feeling. Sometimes the choices you make can make you feel ruined. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you fall.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

It was late and he wanted to be sleeping but his mind wouldn't stop. He sat at his kitchen table rolling the stem of his wine glass between his thumb and finger. His eyes watched the liquid sloshed around inside, like a mini ocean amidst a great storm.

_"You should see yourself now Caffrey…it's pathetic…you're a traitor…a snitch…you turned your back on your own kind…people want you dead…the feds new play toy…it's pathetic…"_

Stevens' words played over and over in his head like an old horror movie. They repeated continuously each syllable growing stronger. Each time a new pain developed in his heart.

A knock on his door pulled Neal from his trance and back to real life.

"Neal?" Peter's quite voice called. "Neal?"

"Yeah, I'm comin'." Neal said tiredly. He got up from his seat and strode over to the door, pulling it open half way. "Peter, it's late, what are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood." Peter said with a shrug of his shoulders. "You gonna let me in?"

"Sure come on in." Neal said in defeat. He didn't know why Peter was here, but he could guess that whatever the reason, he wanted to talk about tonight. The one thing Neal did not feel like doing. Peter smiled and walked into his top floor apartment. He carried with him a brown paper bag that he sat down on the table and immediately began to unload. Soon the smells of Chinese takeout and beer filled the air. Neal stood by the door, watching the scene unfold.

"I brought some food, hope you don't mind." Peter said sheepishly as he caught the questioning look on Neal's face.

"I see that, Elizabeth forget to make you dinner tonight or something?"

"Nah, she went out with some of her girlfriends."

"So you waited until," Neal paused turning to look at the clock on his nightstand. "Twelve thirty to eat?"

Peter opened his mouth to retort but quickly shut it.

"You gonna eat this or what?" he finally said. Neal sighed and took a seat at the table. "Stevens confessed to stealing the Matisse along with about half a dozen crimes he's committed. He'll be in prison for a long time." Peter explained, loading his plate with chicken and rice.

"That's good." Neal said keeping his voice even. He helped himself to some food ignoring the look Peter was giving him.

"He got to you didn't he?"

"Who?" Neal deflected.

"Stevens, he got to you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh so all that stuff he said about people wanting you dead and calling you a traitor has nothing to do with your mood?"

"It's nothing Peter." Neal said hoping the agent would drop the subject. But he didn't.

"You're upset because Neal Caffrey is no longer considered hot stuff!" Peter said with a trace of a smile.

"So what if I am?" Neal snapped angrily. "Why does it matter to you?" Peter looked taken aback by his outburst. Neal took a deep breath and focused on the food in front of him. He wasn't the type of person to share his feelings, especially to a FBI agent. But the man sitting across from him now wasn't Special Agent Peter Burke; instead it was just plain old Peter Burke. He didn't have on his normal suit and tie. He wore a t-shirt and jeans, just like a normal person. He didn't have his gun or badge, just Chinese food. He wasn't here as a co-worker, he was here as a friend.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything." Peter apologized.

"No Peter, it's my fault, I shouldn't have snapped like that…I'm just tired."

Peter nodded and blissful silence overtook them. However, Neal could still feel Peter's questions lingering in the air. He would want to know why Stevens' words bothered him so much, and in truth, Neal didn't really know himself.

Before the deal, Neal had a name for himself. Neal Caffrey, master forger; he was making his mark on the world. But things went sideways and Kate left him. He still shuttered at her name. She was supposed to be the one. How was he supposed to know Peter would use that against him?

And why was it so bad that he made a deal with the feds? It was his only chance to see her, save her from whatever trouble she had gotten herself into. He did it for her. He didn't become a CI just to shorten his jail time or rat out criminals like him. He took the deal for Kate. It was always for Kate.

So why did all those words Stevens said bother him so much? When did he care what other people thought? He was Neal Caffrey; no one told him how to live his life or what to do. His talent hadn't changed with the deal. He could still forge anything anyone could throw at him. So why was he so bothered?

"You should know," Peter said softly as they ate. "It doesn't matter what other people think about you. Who cares if your name isn't what it used to be? You know who you are and so do the people around you. That's all that matters."

_You're a damn good con man…Four years in prison and you're still the best…__So, that really was Neal Caffrey at the party?...In the infamous flesh…Glad he's on our side…_

Neal smiled as a weight seemed to lift off his shoulders. Peter was right, he knew who he was. So what if his name was mud in the eyes of some? Those people, the people like Stevens, they didn't know him. All they knew was a name and there was a lot more to a person than just a name. He still had his talent and charm. He was still Neal Caffrey and to the right people, that name still struck fear and awe in their hearts.

"Thanks Peter." Neal said with a small smile.

"That's what I'm here for."

"Oh so what now you're a shrink?" he teased.

"Are you admitting that you need to see a shrink?" Peter quipped back trying to act serious.

"I didn't say that."

"Yes you did, you said I was a shrink." he pointed out, holding back his laughter.

"No I said that you were acting like a shrink." Neal protested.

"Exactly! There for telling me that you need to see a shrink."

This time it was Neal's turn to open and close his mouth like a fish out of water.

"Pass the egg rolls." Neal said flatly. Peter just shook his head and smiled. He didn't care what other criminals thought of his partner's name. He knew who he was and nothing could change that.

* * *

><p>Sometimes in life, reputations get trashed. Sometimes people make choices that, at first, seem awful but work out in the end. Frank Abagnale Jr. made a deal with feds and when people think of him, they don't see a snitch. They see a con man that cashed 2.5 million dollars worth of fraudulent checks, became an airplane pilot, a doctor, and a lawyer all before his twenty first birthday. When they think of him, they remember all that he accomplished, not his faults. Mud will always be thrown, names will always be tarnished. But the lasting achievements are what matter in the end, whether it's embezzling thousands of tax payers' dollars or putting criminals in jail. Neal Caffrey won't be remembered as the traitor, but as one of the greatest con men to ever live. Mud is mud after all; it can always be washed away.<p>

The End

**A/n: Thanks to all who read, reviewed, alerted, and favorited! You're the best! :)**


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